


Left to Our Own Devices

by ImaniJoain



Series: Unlikely Singularities [28]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-04 15:30:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15844161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImaniJoain/pseuds/ImaniJoain
Summary: February is friendship time. Jane is talking to real, live people. Tony and Maria are bonding over - well, things that have since been classified and covered up. Steve and Darcy are, as always, extremely friendly. Guest appearances by quasi-friends Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson, who deny that drinking beers together while watching movies or discussing their other acquaintances (re:gossiping) constitutes liking someone.Takes place 2/24/17 - 2/27/17.





	1. Cliques, Pricks, and Schticks

**February 24, 2017**

 

Laura Barton stopped, mid-bite of schezuan beef, when Jane Foster sat down with a huff and a dangerous clattering of lunch tray, utensils, and soda. A slightly overweight young man followed behind her, carrying a bowl of cut fruit and a cell phone. He set down the fruit next to Foster, snatched his hand away as if afraid it might get stabbed, and spoke in a low voice into his phone.

“Yep, she’s sitting down now...Yes...Yes, with people, er, a person. I’m sorry, Ms.-”

“You win, Darcy,” the astrophysicist said loudly, cramming four ravoli into her mouth and talking around them. “You’ve lured Kyle to the Dark Side.” Red sauce dripped from her fork to her shirt as she pointed menacingly at the younger man. “I know where your loyalties lie, now, _Kyle_. This will be reflected in my review of your work.”

Laura re-evaluated Kyle’s chances of getting stabbed. His eyes widened and as he speed-walked away he could be heard speaking into the phone, “She won’t really put this in my review, will she Ms. Lewis?”

“Isn’t that your assistant?” Laura ventured after a few moments of watching the wholesale slaughter of innocent ravioli.

“Traitor. Oh, um,” she looked around, then down at the ravaged meal on her tray. “Excuse me, I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. Jane Foster.” She held out a slim hand.

“Laura Barton. Do I dare ask what that pasta ever did to you?”

Jane sighed. “Nothing. Darcy – Darcy Lewis,” Jane paused to make certain Laura knew who she was talking about. Laura nodded. Any story that started with Darcy had to be good. “She came to visit earlier in the month, and somehow got the idea that I wasn’t getting enough social interaction. So she’s been on this campaign to get me to meet people and do...stuff. Kyle’s betrayal was the last straw.” Jane speared some asparagus, then wrinkled her nose. “Barton?”

Laura waited for the inevitable question about Clint.

“The Laura Barton that patented soy nitrogen stabilizer?”

It was Laura’s turn to blink. “Yes. How did you-”

Jane leaned forward with a grin, “Darcy told me about you. Said you were brilliant. And also that you enjoy a good Hedy Lamarr reference.”

“Who doesn’t?”

“Good answer. Do you eat here for supper too?”

“Ah, no. I usually try to get home to eat with the family.”

“You’re married?”

Laura paused for a minute to make sure Jane was serious. She didn’t seem to be joking.

“She does not joke.” Wanda sat down next to Jane, munching on a caramel apple. “I know you are thinking that she cannot possibly not know who you are married to, but our Dr. Foster does not always pay attention in class. I have been training with her for weeks, and still she does not remember what time we begin.”

“I _always_ paid attention in class, _Wanda_. And where did you get that? I didn’t see that on the menu. It looks delicious.”

“It is delicious. It wasn’t on the menu. And a spy never reveals her sources.” Wanda crunched down again, allowing her enjoyment to reach levels that attracted attention from a few other tables. A group of SI lab rats assigned to Avengers projects stared.

“But a really good spy,” Laura interjected, having heard this same excuse from Natasha, “knows when to trade information.”

Wanda sat back and carefully looked over Laura, then Jane. “What do you have?”

“What do you want?” Jane’s eyes tracked a slow drip of caramel like a meth head watching anti-histamine sale signs. _Terrible negotiator,_ Laura thought. _I should introduce her to Clint._

“I want you to be ready when it is time to train. During all of March. And to give it your full effort, no more of this whiny, I-am-so-dangerous baloney sandwiches.”

Laura filed that statement away to tell Clint later. He worried that Wanda would never get over her own fear of her powers. It seemed she was making good progress. Jane was nodding seriously.

“And,” Wanda continued, “You will babysit the Barton children tomorrow night. From four until ten p.m.”

“Done.” Jane reached for the apple, ignoring the unfinished vegetables on her plate. Wanda gestured to the kitchen.

“The Chef is Carla. She likes to feed skinny people. But eat this first,” she nodded to the tray. “Carla can tell when food has been wasted. And she is...unforgiving.”

Jane began shoveling ravioli into her mouth again. Wanda went back to her apple. Laura pointed an accusing finger at the Sokovian.

“You sly little witch. You agreed to babysit in exchange for explaining to Vision about Netflix and Chill! I had to trade Clint a footrub for that!”

Wanda dropped her apple core on Laura’s nearly empty tray, a look of horror on her face. “What! _V_ _byy mene zaraz_! You were supposed to do that yourself! Oh, God, Clinton is still mad at me for the shorting sheets – which I did not even do! Who knows what he told Viz. We were supposed to do this tomorrow night. Friday helped me to pick the movie. Now this will go badly. Argh!”

“The solution is simple.” Jane patted at her mouth with a napkin, ignoring – or oblivious to – the red stain on her Smokey the Bear shirt. “Clint has asked me to rewire a chandelier and-”

“He said _he_ was going to do that,” Laura snarled. “After I did the…thing. He wanted.” She couldn’t believe her husband had weaseled out of a task. Well, she could believe it, she would have tried to get out of it too. And Jane would probably do a better, safer job. Clint sucked at electrical work. But she reserved the right to act angry and get him to contritely offer to do something else. Maybe build a patio.

“So,” Jane went on as if she hadn’t been interrupted. “I will fix your light in exchange for Clint watching the kids tomorrow. The three of us will watch something with male nudity and kickass women at my house and drink and eat caramel apples.” She stopped and gave Wanda a hard look. “Does your source make these to go?” Wanda nodded. “And I will call Darcy and have her talk to Vision. Explicitly. And with good tips.” Her eyes narrowed and she glared at the vegetables on her tray. “She owes me.”

“Darcy Lewis?” Wanda asked, as if there was any other.

“Darcy Lewis,” Jane confirmed.

“Oh, well. This is better plan then.”

Laura was going to get an adult-rated movie, alcohol, new friends, a working chandelier, and probably a patio out of the situation. Yeah. It was a better plan. She was so glad that Jane Foster had sat down at her table. _Best lunch group ever._

 

 

_V_ _byy mene zaraz_ – Kill me now


	2. Pussy Educational Feature, Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I started my day with so many lovely comments and kudos, I thought we needed another chapter first thing today. ;)
> 
> For filiafamilias, who wanted Tony & Maria shenanigans.

**February 24, 2017**

 

“Have you finished yet?”

“No,” Maria scowled. “Social Studies is dumb. This is all pointless busy work. Who cares if my imaginary nation has gun control laws or legalizes marijuana? Nobody - ‘cause it’s not real. If they really want us to learn about the consequences of legislation, we should shadow a lobby firm. Or – crazy idea – read a history book. Social Studies teachers are people who were too lazy to go to law school or learn enough dates to teach history.”

“That’s not fair, kid.” Tony stopped trying to read her school-issued laptop from across the table. Which had pained him like no other when he found out students had to use the provided computers. Maria’s school had received a sudden and significant donation from the Stark Foundation the next day; it included fresh from the factory Starkbooks for every child. “I’m sure there is a reason...valuable lesson...or some...nope, I got nothing. Sorry. I think I’m supposed to tell you that they wouldn’t teach it if it weren’t important, but then the inverse would also have to be true, which would open up a whole lot of questions about the state of technology, vocational tech, and home economics courses in America, and I don’t have the energy to be disappointed in that right now. I’m busy trying to be awesome over here.”

“Just trying?” Maria was laughing at him, but she was also typing faster, so Tony let it slide.

“I was told that under no circumstances could I start without you. And you aren’t ready yet, so here I wait. Dithering away valuable hours of the day. Watching my youth slowly, slowly begin to think about passing. Feeling the joy I have for living drain-”

“You can’t get it it in place without two hands,” she guessed, eyeballing his cast.

“I could have asked Butterfingers. Or U!” Maria raised an eyebrow and Tony shrugged. “I can’t get it in place without two hands,” he admitted.

“At least you didn’t try to tell me you’d use DUM-E.”

“You’re a Stark, not some gullible plebe.” He sighed, impatient, but trying not to prioritize his project with the kid over her education. Parents enforced homework time. He knew this. It was written on a post-it somewhere on his desk. _Thanks, Lewis_ , he thought with both malice and gratitude.

“Done. What do you think?” Maria spun around her tablet and Tony skimmed it, his grin growing wider with each paragraph.

“’In conclusion,’” he read aloud, “’the Nation of Starkville would be unable to maintain the economic vitality to remain a meaningful voice in global issues or retain strong borders once the ratio of cats to people in Congress exceed 1:1. At that point, it would effectively cease to hold any utility as a unit of governance and would be replaced through attrition or neighbor aggression.’ You made it legal for cats to run for political office?”

“It seemed like a natural progression from requiring dogs to have health insurance. And everyone knows cats are better than dogs. I did a separate analysis of that last week – with verified sources – to justify the decisions of Starkville’s citizens.” She took the computer back and saved her paper.

“Aren’t there other kids in your group? What did they have to say about this?”

Maria rolled her eyes, “Obviously, they agreed that cats would bring the legislative process to a dead stop – committee hearings would only be scheduled for fishing industry bills and catnip regulation discussions. I mean, have you seen how lazy they are? Smart, but so lazy.”

“Perfectly logical. I love it. And now,” he closed her laptop gently and bounced on his heels, “let’s break some rules.”


	3. Pussy Educational Feature: Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone's in the kitchen with Ste-eve, someone's in the kitchen I know, oh, oh...oooh.

**February 24, 2017**

 

“Please, Steve?”

“I don’t know, Darce. I’m not very good at this sort of thing.”

“You’re great at this sort of thing! Pep talks are like your jam! Your wheelhouse. Right up your alley. You are so down with-” Darcy took a sip of wine, her eyes rolling up to stare thoughtfully at the ceiling. Steve set down his knife and leaned back against the counter to wait.

“Nope,” she finally continued, smiling at him. “I got nothing else.”

He laughed. “Considering I only just figured this stuff out, I’m probably not the best person to give advice.”

“Oh,” she purred, eyes at half mast. Darcy lounged in one of the club chairs in the corner of the kitchen, displaying a hint of lace-topped stocking under the hem of her skirt. Her mustard blouse had a row of tiny buttons down the front that made her breasts look fantastic. Although, if Steve was honest with himself, he thought everything made her look fantastic. _Or nothing. Nothing is good too._ Darcy continued,

“I think you have at least one juicy tip.”

“That was really bad,” Steve replied, going back to his _beurre blanc_ and reminding his cock that bad puns shouldn’t be encouraged. And that if he stopped for sex now the sauce would be ruined and they wouldn’t eat for at least another hour.

“Eh, I’ve made time with worse.” She grinned and he matched it. She really had gotten him with worse lines. Not that he was ever hard for her to get. _Just hard for her_ , he snorted at his own bad line. “So, do you want to start with your day, or would you first like to hear about mine?”

“Mine’s boring,” he warned.

“Most certainly. Do go on.”

“Let’s see. I went for a run this morning.” He pulled out another pan for the tuna steaks and checked on his reduction. “I got back around five and had a shake and some potatoes. By the time I finished my shower, I needed to wake up my girlfriend.”

“She sounds lazy,” Darcy commented, taking another sip of white wine.

“Oh, she definitely is. You wouldn’t believe what it takes to get her out of bed.” Steve shifted his weight and focused on adding his herbs. Thyme, garlic, a few red pepper flakes, lemon juice. The scallions were softening nicely. It was only partially successfully in keeping his mind off of the memory of Darcy, warm and sleepy with her back pressed against his chest and her breasts thrusting into his hands as he entered her.

“I think I can imagine.”

Steve cleared his throat an oiled the second wide saute pan. “I made her breakfast while she got ready.”

Darcy interrupted again, “Geez, I hope this chick appreciates you.”

_Her soft bottom pressed against his thighs. She contracted around him and twisted her neck to press her lips at the hollow of his throat. Warm breath on his skin made him shiver. Her tongue laved up to his Adam’s apple and he had to slow down to get control of himself._

“A little gratitude would be nice, once in a while.” Steve tried to look forlorn and neglected, but his sauce was ready for cream and a little bit of vegetable stock. Darcy blew him a kiss. “She works at a very important job, though. Very busy. After she left I finished breakfast and loaded the dishwasher.” He looked up then for approval, to be met only with skepticism. It was unfortunate that he hadn’t managed to fool her about his housekeeping abilities for a least a little bit longer in their relationship. The open bag of dirty workout clothes on the dining room floor caught his eye. And the jacket he had left on the chair next to Darcy’s. And over on the sideboard his tablet and the file of papers that needed signed. It wasn’t as if he particularly minded picking up, the problem was, he just never noticed those things until he was really looking for them. “Okay, so Buck came by with his new bike and he loaded the dishwasher while I got dressed. But I would have done it if he hadn’t just started in on it. Honest.” He clasped one hand, whisk included, over his heart. “Would Captain America lie to you?”

“Yes. Emphatically, yes.” Darcy got up to refill her glass, leaning over the marble island to reach for the wine. “Do you need anymore of this?” He shook his head and covertly tried to look down her shirt while she emptied the bottle. She smirked knowingly and put an extra swing in her hips when she turned back to her seat. “So, Jimmy came by...”

“You are the only one who can call him that without getting punched in the mouth. Yeah, he wanted to check out this bakery in Queens. It was okay, not as good as that place Pepper orders from – the one with the chocolate croissants.”

“Starbucks has those.”

Steve didn’t dignify that with a reply.

“We took a few dozen to the tower and met up with Sam for a quick workout. He headed back upstate today – took that Parker kid with him.” Steve frowned. He and Tony had nearly come to blows again over training a teenager. It had finally been settled with the agreement that Parker would not be asked, included, or ‘accidentally’ invited to any missions until Clint graduated him and they all discussed his potential membership together as a team. Steve was hoping it would take a couple of years. “I ate lunch at Buck’s place. Now he’s out of everything that I left there – he really needs to learn to cook. Or start eating in the employee cafeteria.” That was an unspoken and nearly constant battle between Steve and his best friend. Bucky had always had a big appetite, and Steve knew from experience that the serum burned calories like Darcy burned... pretty much everything she cooked. But unlike how he would beg every woman on their block back in the day – a sweet smile and a wink got Bucky a lot of hot rolls, of both the bread and hay varieties – he hardly ever brought up food. He ate what was provided and if no one offered then he would live on protein bars and tinned food – and not enough of either. It was a problem for another day, and one Sam was aware of and working through.

“Your new gal, Simone, went with Buck and I to the VA hospital this afternoon. She was real nice, professional and good with the vets. After the photos, we played cards for a couple of hours, and then while they went back to the Tower, I took the subway so I could get groceries and grab a snack. I ubered home, did some more work on that oils study I have going upstairs, and voila. Had a glass of wine waiting for my girl.” Steve started the fish and pulled pre-cubed butter out of the refrigerator. His stomach was rumbling, and he was thankful again that Darcy liked to eat real meals. If she had been a salad or smoothie kind of person, he would have not bothered cooking and just drank another protein shake instead. He was beginning to see them as a slow torture device for his taste buds.

“I am telling you, this girlfriend sounds incredibly needy. You should ditch her and hang out with me. I’ll treat you right.”

“That so?”

“Oh, yeah. How about tonight, we fool around and I show you my skill set?”

Steve snorted and tilted the pan carefully to let the oil lap against the fish. One fillet for Darcy, three for him. He reached for the flake salt while Darcy started combing her fingers through her hair. He watched with interest out of the corner of his eye. “How about you stop doing that or you’re going to get burned, salty fish?”

“Spoilsport.” She stuck out her tongue. “So I was rudely awakened this morning from my beauty sleep by this horrendously large man. Can you believe he had the audacity to crawl into my bed – naked? I was held prisoner there, terrified, for what seemed like hours!”

“You poor, thing. Would you like me to sleep with you tonight, just to make certain he doesn’t come back?”

“Oh, would you? I don’t want to impose, but I’d be ever so grateful.” She fluttered her lashes at him and undid the top three buttons on her blouse. “Thank you for the oatmeal this morning, by the way. I know you don’t like it.”

“You don’t like it either. You just like putting toppings on food.”

“It’s true. Oatmeal is just a carrier for blueberries and brown sugar – but it’s a _warm_ carrier, so in February it beats yogurt hands down. Frankly, it was the only thing that fortified me for my day. There were meetings, Steve. On a Friday. Unscheduled, last minute meetings. I had just gotten rid of that moron from DARPA – really, just send an actual scientist, an engineer, I’d settle for a web designer at this point if it meant they would stop with the security dudes in poorly designed HR cover identities – I made Tommy escort him downstairs. It seemed like an appropriate punishment for both of them.”

“What did Tom do today?”

“Nothing,” Darcy sighed, “that I know of. But I am going to have to break down and get him cubicle walls so he’ll stop trying to talk to Simone about her skin care regimen. She’s been walking around muttering about the force strength of pencils. I think he’s going to lose an eye soon. Anyhow, by that time I had Jane’s Kyle on the phone - he still hadn’t gotten her to leave her house or the observatory, and none of the suggestions I gave him were working. I had to pull out the big guns.”

“Friday shut off the power for you?”

“Yeah,” Darcy nodded sadly. “I know we keep saying that Thor’s going to come back any day, and we’ll throw a bar-b-que and what he’s doing is important et cetera, et cetera, but...I think she’s having trouble believing it. Jane was never an overly social person. Too smart, even in grade school I think, to hang out with regular kids. And then in college it was tough to be the minority woman who outshone all of her peers and everyone laughed at for her crazy ideas. But she’s got to make some friends, Steve. Or I’m going to have to relocate.”

A brief moment of panic overtook Steve, until his planning skills kicked in. If Darcy need to office out of the upstate facility, he could do the same. He’d just rearrange his schedule to stay at the Tower whichever days she needed to be in New York. Base housing wasn’t the best, but he was certain he could find something nearby that was a little more homey. He made a mental note to talk to Clint about it.

“Doesn’t matter,” she waved it off and curled her feet under her. “Kyle got her to the cafeteria and he sent me a pic of her chatting with Laura Barton and Wanda, so I am feeling pretty good about her prospects.”

“You sound like you’re setting her up for marriage.”

“Steve,” Darcy looked at him from under her brows seriously, “This is female friendship. The most treacherous and delicate of interpersonal relationships. It’s like shark week without the cage and instead blindfolds and pitch black water. There is blood, Steve. Blood and carnage and snipiness and psychological trauma. Marriage is a cakewalk in comparison.”

Steve shoved a teaspoon of sauce into his mouth to keep from saying anything.

_Maybe you need some personal experience._

_If it’s so easy, why don’t you and I go look at rings?_

_Come upstairs and I’ll do my best to make you say yes._

“So, Vernon brought me lunch. He’s a godsend, I swear. I should thank Thor for such a capable assistant. And then I actually managed a few hours of real work until I got this.” She held out her phone, but from across the kitchen all he could make out was that it was a picture of him, Bucky, and Sam, maybe in front of the Tower. “FYI, you’re an internet sensation.”

“Excuse me?” He whisked evenly, but raised his eyebrows at her.

“’Captain America Gives Captain Planet a Run For His Money’”, she recited. He knew he looked confused, because he had no idea who Captain Planet was. “It’s from an early nineties cartoon. America was all about recycling and saving the rainforest and schoolchildren learning important moral lessons through the conduit of television during the decade of my youth. Captain Planet and his Planeteers were the oddly blue embodiment of sorting aluminum, halting deforestation, and just saying no to the mary jane. The drug, not Petey’s friend.”

The moniker clicked for him. On their way out of the building with Simone – Sam had been headed to a motor pool car – some kid had got up and left a bunch of trash on one of the plaza benches. Steve had called him out, and Bucky had followed the kid back to the bench, and then watched him sort out his plastic and paper to make sure he did it correctly. Sam had spent the whole time cheerfully talking about how much he preferred reusable water bottles and his favorite food truck that had biodegradable containers. Apparently someone had gotten it on camera.

“Tommy – using the fifty-percent of his brain power delegated to amazing ideas and not the thirty percent used for Golden Girls trivia or the ten percent that has catalogued every design trend since nineteen-oh-one – came up with the idea when he saw it. The original poster hashtagged it ‘communism’.” Steve bristled on Bucky’s behalf. “Tommy came up with this whole campaign to vote which Avenger was which out of the Planeteers and he put together this hilarious gif of Bucky scowling at various minor community nuisances. ‘The Soldier is watching. Recycle.’ ‘The Soldier is watching. Pick up your dog doo.’ Some of the staff voted for, ‘The Soldier is watching. Don’t Be a Dick.’ I reluctantly shut that one down, but the internet thought of it anyhow. It’s gone viral.”

“I’m...not sure what to say.” Steve pulled out plates and began serving. It wasn’t negative, but he was never quite sure where the line was between laughing _with_ and laughing _at_ when the medium was digital. Darcy’s expression gentled and she stood to lean against the island again.

“Today, Bucky is known around the world for his dedication to cleaning up the environment and making the world a bit nicer place. No one is talking about assassinations or brainwashing. Tomorrow that may change, but for today, the public is only wondering if he’d make a better Kwame or Wheeler. Personally, I think he’s a secret Ma-Ti.”

Steve brought their plates over to the table and Darcy poured him a glass of milk and got herself water. Conversation fell quiet for a few minutes while Steve ate his first fish fillet – good, but could use more red pepper, maybe a pinch less salt – and Darcy made obscene noises.

“Steve, oh god, this is so good. You have no idea. You’ve never lived on ten cent a package Ramen cooked in a coffee pot and stale pop tarts. If I wasn’t already planning on it, I would totally blow you for this. But, you know, in a classy way.”

Steve blinked, turned on but also mildly concerned about Darcy’s ratio for compensation of decent food.

“Anyway. You’re trending. Bucky is practically crashing servers. Sam got another tentative offer for sponsorship – water bottles this time. That lucky, handsome devil. Tommy retained his job – again. You’re going to explain to Vision about dating. Jane made friends. And I am not wearing any underwear. I think it’s been a pretty good Friday. Don’t you?”

She blinked at him as innocently as she was capable of, which wasn’t that innocent, and took another delicate bite of food. “What did you put on these radishes? They’re sweet. Were they in the oven? I didn’t see you put them in the oven.”

“I will tell you whatever you want-”

“And talk to Vision.”

“And talk to Vision,” he agreed, not even hearing what he was saying. “But you have thirty seconds to finish chewing and then I’m going to have dessert.”

“Oh?” She bit her lip and Steve carefully set down his fork. “Is it cake?”

“Not even close.”

His food tasted just as good, if not better, heated up a few hours later.


	4. I Wasn't Even There

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear kattabaker,
> 
> You took the reference right out of my mouth. 
> 
> Sincerely,   
> Imani

**February 25, 2017**

 

“We can salvage this.” Tony looked around the lobby, catching the eye of a security guard who seemed disproportionally upset to be covered in pink ooze, and gave her a jaunty wave. He made a mental note to have Friday pay for the woman’s dry cleaning.

“Not only was the animation a complete failure,” Maria kicked at a gloppy bit and it begrudgingly slid a few inches across the floor, “but the color is all wrong.”

“Hm.” Tony stared at the ceiling, watching a drop slowly coalesce and then distend, pulling down and away until gravity finally took over and it fell thirty feet to hit the terrazzo. It didn’t _splat_ so much as it _slithered_ which was both disconcerting and interesting on a scientific level.

“We should have never branched out into biology.”

“I think this falls under the category of chemistry, Junior.”

“Dude. That piece is fucking looking at me. With disdain.”

“Okay. I’ll concede biology but you have to admit that there were some valuable lessons learned. Every failure is an opportunity...for...something...and try again and all that.”

“Name one lesson we learned from all this.” Maria crossed her arms over her chest and squinted at him. Upon closer inspection, Tony wasn’t sure she was squinting so much as trying not to let her eyes fully close. He glanced at his watch. Through a thin sheen of pink mucus he could tell it was after two a.m. _Oh, shit._

“You know what? I need to think about that. Probably all night. You should go to bed. While I think. And you will sleep, and rest, and in the morning you’ll be a totally normal, well-adjusted child-person who does not have brain damage or whatever from lack of REM. I’m sure I’ll have a whole list of lessons learned by breakfast.”

“Oh, please.” The cool, controlled voice came from behind them, near the private entrance. A tall, gorgeous redhead in a dashing black wool coat with Bottega Veneta luggage trailing behind tapped one pointed Louboutin boot. Tony briefly considered that if he threw himself into the biggest gloppy bit, Pepper might be too concerned with his health to worry about laying blame. She continued, “Don’t let me stop you, I’m on tenterhooks here. What lessons are there to be learned from slathering the Tower lobby in pink snot?”

“First and foremost,” Tony began, while trying to surreptitiously shoo Maria toward the elevator, “there is the importance of only doing science when fully rested. A well rested brain is a...safe and...innovative brain.”

“Really.” Pepper looked like she wanted to step closer, but most of the floor was sticky. And also slippery. It was an incomprehensible dichotomy.

“Flank her,” Tony whispered out of the corner of his mouth, then looked down to find that Maria was no longer beside him. His head snapped up to see that she was duck walking behind the security desk, below Pepper’s line of sight, and toward the private elevator. _Quick and opportunistic, nice style._ Tony prepared to throw himself on a grenade. For the good of the kid.

“And also,” he said loudly to draw attention, “scaling. Yes. Scaling of experiments is essential. First attempts should always be small enough for proper containment. Which brings me to my next point. Containment. An essential-”

“Hold it, young lady.” Pepper stopped Maria with an upraised hand before the kid could slide past, careful not to touch her pink glistening coveralls. Tony winced, scrambling to think of a better way to take indictment so Maria wouldn’t get into trouble. Parents should take responsibility. That was on a post-it note somewhere, too. Pepper continued to Maria in a concerned voice,

“Leave your clothes on the floor in the guest bathroom closest to the foyer and rinse off in there, okay? Just wear a towel to your room and make sure you shower again – really scrub your hair – before you go to bed. Is this a biohazard?”

The security guard’s eyes widened again, and she began flipping through screens at her station, no doubt looking for MSDS sheets on pink goo and the emergency procedures for building contamination. Tony was happy that Pepper wasn’t mad at Maria, but also a little disappointed that he was apparently going to be weathering the ass-chewing on his own.

“Nah. It’s inert,” he answered. “Mostly. And we designed it to dry and crumble after an hour’s exposure to air. Maintenance should be able to just vacuum it up in another forty minutes or so.” He picked his way across the floor, still wary of Pepper’s cool demeanor. Maria made for the elevator without saying anything else. _Smart girl._

“And why, exactly,” Pepper asked in a lower voice once he was within arm’s reach, “was this experiment being conducted in the _lobby_ , hours _after_ her approved bedtime?”

“Well, we watched both _Ghostbusters_ last weekend,” he began. Pepper nodded, indicating she remembered, and waved him to continue. “And you really liked the toaster, and Maria thought it would be funny to have ours dance when you tried to put in your English muffin in the morning, and then I said, ‘why not’ and we starting thinking about it, and the first run went really well, but we needed a good three hour window in order to propagate an amount suitable to multiple test scenarios and-”

“First,” Pepper interrupted, and Tony let her, “I am extremely concerned by the use of the word ‘propagate’. There are some connotations there that I am sincerely hoping do not apply. Second, you will get a robot of some kind down here to start work. This is above and beyond even the emergency pay clause for our maintenance people. Third, you will pay for Edna,” she smiled consolingly at the security guard, “to take a paid vacation. With her family. And for her dry cleaning.”

“I was already planning on that,” Tony muttered.

“Finally,” Pepper looked down her nose at him, her blue eyes boring into his very soul. Tony was sure she could see right to all the darkest, most cringe-worthy parts of him. Not that it mattered. She already knew, had seen, the worst of him. “Good job, Tony.” She smiled, softly. Tony blinked in surprise. “She looked excited and extremely happy. Exhausted too, but as long as we don’t make a habit of it. It isn’t a school night, after all.”

“Oh. Well. Okay.”

“I will be collecting a favor for this, of course.” She turned and headed for the elevator and Tony thought about offering to bring her luggage, but let her get it herself. She wouldn’t like it getting dirty. They were halfway to the penthouse before the shock of not being in trouble started to wear off.

“Did you get a toaster to dance?” Pepper inquired.

Tony winced. “Funny story. Ha. Haha. Erm. I didn’t want to use ours for the trial run, so I may have borrowed Steve’s. And the Bolshevik Boy’s. And Happy’s. I’m sure they won’t notice.” He _had_ put them back...afterward. Tony couldn’t decide if he hoped they never noticed, or if he hoped one of them tried to make toast in the morning. He reminded himself to tell Friday – just as soon as Pepper was out of earshot – to take notes. There was only a four percent chance it would explode when heated.

And a one hundred percent chance it would smell like a lingering, three day-old, wet, dead cat.

God, he really hoped Barnes liked toast.


	5. Announcements, Announcements, Announcements

**February 26, 2017**

 

Barnes had been invited to brunch, of course. It was Pepper Potts who added the ‘of course’. As if it would have been unconscionably rude to neglect him. Which was laughable. He had actually gotten a small chuckle out of the idea. Somewhere, that Post lady must have written a section on the etiquette for inclusion of your beau’s parent’s murderer in neighborly activities. If it existed, Ms. Potts would have read it and adhered with a graceful panache that would shame anyone who considered not agreeing. Considering Barnes had been less than a proper polite gentleman before he had been armed – _armed_ – and shocked straight to a grassy knoll, he doubted that his reluctance to attend was a surprise to anyone.

Still, Steve and Darcy were going to be there. Darcy had suggested, in _sotto_ text message if such a thing were possible, that his absence would be viewed as disrespectful, hostile, and she might trap several alley cats and loose them in his apartment to disincentivise such behavior. Steve had only stated that Ms. Potts wouldn’t have asked if she didn’t want him there.

Sam, thank god, was upstate and didn’t have a chance to weigh in on the – doubtless – deep, meaningful psychological ramifications of going or not going.

Wanda had texted to ask if he would sit next to Vision. Apparently there had been a discussion between him and Steve on an unnamed topic and it left Vision confused and Wanda not speaking to her Captain. _Sounds about right_ , Buck thought.

Brunch – contrary to what he had looked up on the internet – was also not really a morning activity, given that it was initially scheduled to start at eleven a.m., then rescheduled to noon, with apologies. Then it was moved back to one due to some ‘travel delays’, which Barnes knew from Clint was actually a hungover Wanda. Then it was moved back, _again_ , so that Evelyn might eat with them, since she was expected to arrive Sunday afternoon. He had, against his better judgment, agreed to show up. He figured that there would be enough people there that he could avoid Stark, stay for a quarter hour or so, thank Ms. Potts for the hospitality, eat a damn muffin, and skip out before shit hit the fan.

He scanned the security feeds from his apartment while he put on a tie. And that was another thing. _Fucking ties._ Friday had assured him that ‘business casual dress’ would be erring on the side of caution, and that Stark would probably have on jeans and a t-shirt, but Barnes did vaguely recall something about Church clothes and Sunday meals, and he distinctly recalled a wooden spoon to his backside for running to Stevie’s apartment for dinner in just his shirt sleeves, so he tied the fucking tie and tried to keep his scowling to a minimum.

On the screen, he could see Happy was waiting in the lobby. When Doc Vivas entered, the Head of SI Security quickly took control of her red suitcase and escorted her to the elevator. Barnes estimated how long it would take them to get to the penthouse, and grabbed the sport coat off the back of his couch. It was light camel and fitted enough to look neat without being so fitted his sidearm was noticeable. He’d split it if he rotated his prosthetic fully, but if he needed that much movement he wouldn’t give a shit about the state of his coat. Dark navy slacks, a pale blue checked shirt, and a blue striped tie all combined to make him feel vastly uncomfortable, even though he knew he looked as presentable as possible. He had even switched out his boots for dress shoes, which made him antsy as hell, but he figured if someone attacked the penthouse with Captain America, Iron Man, War Machine, and the Scarlet Witch there, the idiot was just looking to be shot. And he doubted he would have to lift a finger if a gate crasher came to a Pepper Potts shindig. She could _reproach_ them to death.

“Shall I summon an elevator for you, Sergeant?”

“No thanks, Friday,” he murmured. It had taken him a while to get used to the AI, but he felt they were on good terms now. Honestly, she was better company than most people he knew. Certainly she had a better sense of humor. “I’ll take the stairs. Would you please shut off the feeds?”

The television went black and Barnes set his security measures before locking the door himself and heading upstairs. He arrived in the entryway outside the penthouse moments before the elevator doors opened. Through an archway he could see the guests mingling. Wanda and Vision were already there, the former sitting on a low couch with Stark and Maria, pointing out various ports and parts on himself. Wanda’s head snapped up from where she was in conversation with Ms. Potts and the Colonel and she practically flew to his side. She may have actually flown. Her travel was suspiciously smooth.

“What took you so long?” she hissed in his ear.

Barnes didn’t have time to explain – he planned to use the driest tone he could muster – that he wasn’t aware he she was in charge of his schedule. But the elevator opened and Happy came out, laughing at something the Doc had said. Barnes casually steered Wanda through the living area to an empty art niche. He kept one eye on Stark and an ear on the newcomers.

Wanda’s bony fingers hovered near his shoulder, threatening but not quite daring to poke him. “We’ve been here for twenty minutes! You have to fix this problem. Darcy said that was your job – he is your friend so you are responsible for his misunderstandings and general incompetence.”

Barnes raised an eyebrow. Steve had been called a lot of things. He had been called a lot of derogatory things. Some of them by Barnes himself. Rarely, however, had the man been accused of incompetence.

“He has completely mudded this up. Just look at that.” She gestured with her elbow toward Vision, who noticed them and gave a stilted but welcoming wave. Stark noticed as well and stood up with a tight jaw to go to the buffet that was laid out on a long table.

“Yes,” he agreed, having no idea what she was talking about. “Disaster. Better scrap the whole thing.”

“What! No, no! _YA ne khochu tsʹoho, ty_ _niby_!You are the one who supposedly has experiences. I watched the made for television series. Go, explain things.” She gave him a shove that did little to move him.

The elevator chimed softly again and Steve and Darcy tumbled out. Darcy looked lovely, if a bit less made-up than usual, in a pair of leggings, boots, and a long sweater. Steve was dressed similar to Barnes, but his tie was askew and he had lipstick on the edge of his jaw. Barnes could feel a smile coming on. He wondered how many comments he could make before the punk figured out he had evidence of his foolin’ around on his face. Happy had taken the Doc’s coat and suitcase somewhere, and her black check wool skirt brushed against her knees and contrasted sharply with the red of Ms. Potts’ slacks as she greeted the Colonel. Barnes let Wanda’s increasingly sharp whispers fade to the background as he waited to catch sight of the Doc’s shoes. Boots – which seemed to be standard for every woman during the winter in New York – but hers had a slender heel and alligator leather in an unnatural metallic sheen. _Gold matches her hair._

Stark was approaching with two champagne flutes and a cup of coffee. Barnes straightened his spine and prepared for the usual insults, invasive questions, and the wash of guilt and self-loathing.

“Wanda,” he handed her a glass, which she immediately threw back and emptied. “Pinocchio,” he bared his teeth in a parody of a smile and passed over the second drink. Barnes held it carefully, smelling bright citrus and what he could wager was expensive alcohol. He had to remind himself to relax his fingers before he squeezed too tightly and broke the slender crystal stem. “How...” he grit his teeth. “How about this weather?”

Barnes stilled every nerve, slowing down his pulse and looking for the shot about to be fired. The room went quiet.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Darcy’s whisper was easy for him to pick up where she stood with Pepper, Steve, and the Doc. Pepper looked oddly satisfied with the current situation. The Doc’s dark gold eyebrows were pulled together with concern or confusion, he couldn't be sure. The Colonel had taken up a strategic position near Vision at the arm of the couch and directly behind Stark. Whether he was preparing to hold the billionaire back, catch him if Barnes knocked him unconscious, or offer tactical support remained to be seen.

Stark’s gaze narrowed even further, and his own grip on his cup tightened dangerously. _One more_ _fraction of a millibar of_ _pressure_ _and it will shatter,_ Barnes assessed even as he relaxed his legs and face, preparing for the burn of hot coffee against his skin.

“I hope you are enjoying...this...brunch...thing.” The smile came out again, all professionally whitened teeth and repression.

Under her breath, Barnes caught the Doc softly singing, “We’ve sold our cow, we’ve sold our cow.”

Ms. Potts’s loud laugh was heard by everyone and broke the tension.

Stark was apparently finished with his attempt to...honestly, Barnes wasn’t certain what the man had been attempting to do. He stalked back to the buffet, where a smiling Ms. Potts met him and wrapped her arm through his. Wanda traded her empty flute for Barnes’ full one, muttering in Sokovian about idiots, welshed agreements, and nonsense English idioms. Barnes took the opportunity to slip away and head for Vision on the couch. Maria sat on the other side of the couch popping blueberries into her mouth and staring intently at the seams on Vision’s face.

“Good afternoon, Sergeant.”

Barnes had given up on getting the man to call him Bucky. “Vision,” he nodded shortly. Wanda was watching them with all the intensity of a lovesick, buzzed, partially-trained spy, and gesturing emphatically at Darcy to join her. _Right,_ he remembered. _I’m supposed to fix Steve’s screwup._ Problem was, Barnes wasn’t entirely clear on the problem. Something about Netflix. And Wanda. _Best just to get to it, then I can get the hell out of this FUBAR._ The Doc was somewhere behind him, near his four o’clock – he could smell the distinctive scent of her perfume. Colonel Rhodes barked out a sharp laugh at her murmurs which he couldn’t make out over the other conversations and the clank of dishes at the buffet.

“You and Wanda seen anything good lately?”

Vision immediately brightened, “I recently heard of a cinematic feature that was filmed on location in Sokovia prior to the second World War. A French film. We will require use of subtitles, but I thought Wanda might enjoy seeing her homeland.”

Privately, Barnes thought it would be depressing as hell, given that she had been born into a time of extreme political strife and wouldn’t remember a Sokovia that wasn’t ravaged by war, government upheaval, and crime. He doubted she would recognize the Sokovia region that he had stalked through in his early years as the Winter Soldier.

If this was Steve’s suggestion, it really was for shit.

“Sounds kinda heavy. Might want to let her find that one one her own.” Vision nodded thoughtfully and Barnes continued, pulling together the few concrete memories he had of going to the movies in his day. There had been a horror film, he couldn’t quite think of the name or even the actress, but he did remember two soft bodies pressed against him in delighted fear. Wanda wasn’t the type to scare easy, though. And they got enough of that in their day jobs. Vision couldn’t actually take her to a dark theatre anyhow, which was the whole point of that sort of thing. They were just planning on watching a show in the common area at the facility. It wasn’t like a date or anything.

“How ‘bout something with animals?”

_A smaller hand on his arm. “Come on, Bucky! We’re going to miss the reel!”_

“ _Ya already seen this one twice, shortstop.”_

“ _But I love Katnip Kollege! They’re so cute!”_

He breathed slowly to clear his head. “Girls like animals.”

“There is a documentary on ocean life that Netflix has found compatible with my viewing preferences.” Barnes had meant something fuzzy, but whatever. Vision went on, “It looks both educational and visually stimulating. And I do not believe there will be any heavy, as you say, emotional connotations.”

_Great. Problem solved._

Barnes stood to go scarf down whatever would be quickest – as politely as possible – and find Ms. Potts so he could leave. His eye caught a row of shot glasses, some green and some pink, all with decorative leaves and crap on top. _Perfect, fast and_ _a bonus_ _slim chance I could come down with a severe case of poisoning and not ever have to do this again_. Behind him, Maria was talking to Vision.

“-no, _chill_ , dude. Like hang out.”

The shot had the sweetly bitter tang of a narrow escape. And also kale.

 

 

_YA ne khochu tsʹoho, ty niby! - I don’t want that, you nitwit!_


	6. Taken to School

**February 27, 2017**

 

“How did it go?”

“Why are you asking me? I was out of town. On purpose. Which you knew.” There was a pause on the line. “And why ask at all? As if you didn’t already know exactly what happened.”

“Trust but verify.”

Another long pause. “I can’t decide if that is a reasonable response, or the scariest fucking thing I have ever heard you say.”

A huff. “Really? In Karakesh-”

“Tops that.”

“Bagalore?”

“Nope.”

“I once faked the death of a South American drug lord without his knowledge using a piece of gum and an empty shotgun shell.”

“Was the gum used?”

“Only by me. Does that make a difference?”

“I’m not sure.” In the background, a high pitched scream was quickly silenced. “No worries. Trainees.”

“Sounds fun. So, you were telling me how it went?”

A long sigh vibrated through the phone. “Civil. No one died. No punches were thrown. Tony decided that Vivas should move to New York full-time and Vision has asked if there is such a thing as a, and I cannot believe I am saying this, ‘boy’s night’. Pretty sure Pepper is going to have the elevator decontaminated after what Steve and Darcy did in there. That enough of a report for you, or did you want a written memo?”

“This will suffice, thank you.” A high pitched scream was quickly silenced on the other end of the call. “No worries. This cave is abandoned. You never did tell me how you convinced Pepper to stage a brunch.”

“No.”

     “ _Sam,” Pepper smiled warmly and the man was once again surprised by how genuine she was, “Friday told me you wished to speak privately. What can I do for you?” She stood to take his hand, shaking it firmly and then leading him to a seating area in her office._

     “ _Yes, ma’am.”_

     “ _Pepper, please,” she reminded him._

     “ _Of course, Pepper. It is about Barnes and Tony.”_

     “ _What did he do?” Pepper was suddenly all business. “Is the damage localized or-”_

     “ _No, no, nothing like that,” he assured her. “But I think they both need a push to move beyond the current cold war environment. Right now, we are sitting on a powder keg, and without a positive change in the dynamic – well, I think the next time those two get into a fight we’ll be lucky if a suit and an arm are the only casualties.”_

     “ _I see what you mean. In fact, I had been thinking the same thing, but I wasn’t sure if it was my place. What would you suggest, Sam?”_

     “ _Something simple, with just team members and maybe family. It wouldn’t have to be everyone, and they don’t both have to stay the entire time, but if they could have at least one non-mission related interaction without anyone throwing around accusations or fists, it would be a tremendous step in the right direction.”_

     “ _I have just the thing. I can make sure Tony shows up and behaves himself. I am reluctant, however, to try to compel Sergeant Barnes to attend.”_

     “ _Oh, you just have to invite him. He’ll show.”_

     “ _You’re that confident in yourself?” She smiled, not unkindly, but knowingly._

     “ _Not me, ma’am.”_

“No,” he repeated. He certainly wasn’t going to admit that he had only had to ask. It would ruin his spy cred.“I did not tell you. How did you get Barnes there?”

_**02/16/17** _

_ChemicalQueen: Do you think it is safe to post this on Craigslist? *picture of light fixture*_

_If you want to sell it, I will do that for you. Do you not like it anymore? Wasn’t that in your first apartment?_

_ChemicalQueen: Yeah. It’s broken._

_I always liked it. It felt homey._

_ChemicalQueen: Do you think so? It does have nice lines, but too small for over the new table._

_Over your bathtub? *Link*_

_ChemicalQueen: …..Those pictures are amazing! Now I just need to buy one of those bath tray things for a glass of wine and a book. And send the kids and their father to Abu Dhabi so I can take a bath without interruption. And get the chandelier fixed._

_Have the man of the house do it. Cheapest labor you’ll find – no one else will work for legal favors._

_**2/19/17** _

_I found this *picture sent*. Do you want me to get it for you?_

_Gakusei: It is the same color as Vision’s cape! Maybe if I wear that, he’ll get the idea._

_Like a letter jacket? It’s an American thing._

_Gakusei: I have seen movies. I am not stupid. But he might be._

_Have you talked to him about it?_

_Gakusei: Loads of embarrassment and zero romance. Yes. Exactly what I was looking for in conversation with him. How did you know?_

_Gakusei: Do you think that would work?_

_Gakusei: Maybe if someone else did it._

_Don’t ask me._

_Gakusei: I’ll find someone else. And buy the jacket. I’ll pay you back._

_**2/20/17** _

_I dropped by Jane’s lab, as you requested. She seemed very intent._

_LaserKitten: Didn’t even look up? Or didn’t focus? Either way, I’m running out of ideas. She’s in a funk._

_I think she would need to be held captive for a minimum of twenty minutes with another person before forming a relationship would occur to her._

_LaserKitten: If for no other reason than because she’d need a boost to reach the air vent to escape. But yeah, I catch your drift._

_LaserKitten: Ideas have been spurred._

_LaserKitten: Don’t think I don’t see what you did there._

_**2/26/17** _

_Gakusei: That blond idiot! How does D put up with him!_

_I imagine the sex helps._

_Gakusei: Don’t even bring it up! You are sprinkling salt into my open sores._

_That is not how that idiom goes._

_Gakusei: Whatever. It is worse now. He invited everyone to the theatre room to watch Hellraiser with us. What is this movie, even? Man with needles in face is not entertaining! Sitting next to Carla from the kitchen would be delicious-_

_Is she bringing caramels? Caramel apples?_

_Gakusei: Both. And toffee popcorn. I think I have gained three kg just thinking about it. But she is not the person I want holding my hand during movie! What did that vyrokok say to him!_

_I am sure he meant well. Have his old friend deal with him. What is it D says about the two fossils?_

_Gakusei:...I think I have solution. See you soon._

“I never talked to Barnes. It must be a happy coincidence.”

“Natasha...” Sam took a deep breath and then laughed. It was deep and rich and full of an appreciation that warmed her chest and made her want to smile inappropriately. She did not, of course. She was working, after all. But she wanted to.

He went on, “Do not ever change. I mean that. Not ever.”

 

***

 

“There is no one approaching this floor, Sergeant Barnes.”

“Thanks, Friday,” Barnes said softly. “Do you hear something? I think I hear something in Wilson’s place.” He casually leaned on the door lever behind him, carrying his gym bag over his shoulder. He put his weight onto his metal arm. With a snap, the door opened.

“Sergeant Barnes,” Friday said, and he could swear there was a note of sarcasm in her lilt, “I must inform you, as Director of Security for the Yinsen Foundation, that there has been a breech in one of the residential units assigned to an Avenger.”

“What unit would that be, Friday?” Barnes pushed open the door.

“Staff Sergeant Wilson. Shall I alert Tower security?”

“Nah. I’m right nearby. I’ll look into it myself.” He strolled into the entryway and found a small studio apartment that was a mirror image of the place Steve had one floor up. Wilson had more stuff in his, but it still managed to look neater. To his right was the small kitchenette, and on the counter - a gleaming new toaster. Barnes quickly unplugged it and switched it with an identical model from his gym bag. Except the one from his bag was dusted inside with pink-grey powder and smelled – to his sensitive nose – like dead cat. He then counted to sixty and stepped back out into the hall, pulling the door closed behind him.

“Everything looks good, Friday. Did you catch any thing on camera in Wilson’s apartment that might explain this broken door?”

“I do not have permission to record in Staff Sergeant Wilson’s apartment, Sergeant Barnes. As you know.”

“Oh, right. Well, please put in a maintenance request.”

“What reason should I list?”

He smirked, looking to the camera he knew was at the end of the hall. “Natural attrition.”

“Very good, Sergeant.”

 

 

_*vyrokok - idiot_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for this one, folks. Stay tuned for additional episodes of your favorite serial! Explosions! Sex! Gunfire! Sex! Contusions and confusion! Will Vision ever pick up what Wanda is putting down? When will Evie and Bucky realize their shared destiny? And what has Maria been doing on the sly to Tony's robots? We'll find out the answers to these questions and more on, Unlikely Singularities!
> 
> Seriously, thanks for reading. This is a blast in large part to such great readers.


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